


A Taste of Freedom

by Elrewin



Series: An Heir for a Crown [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-24
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2018-04-23 05:56:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4865588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elrewin/pseuds/Elrewin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of moments taking place before An Heir for a Crown.</p><p>"She remembered how her aunt had been called “The Rose of the North” ; but she wasn't a rose, she was a wolf. And they would do well to remember that."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Taste of Freedom

**Author's Note:**

> I've chosen to do some ficlets of the relationship between Aegon and Arya, set in the universe of An Heir for a Crown. The first chapter tells the story of how they met, so it's rather chronological but the others will be more disparate. Enjoy !

To be honest, Aegon never had a craving for girls. Of course his senses had worked him hard as a teenager, and he had had his fair share of serving girls and willing ladies in his bed but he never seemed to be consumed by this all time lust like some of his friends were.

That was probably why, when his father announced his betrothal, he felt slightly disappointed.

He knew nothing of his bride-to-be. She was probably a nice girl, polite and sweet, onto which queenship would slip like a glove. She was bearing the noble name of Stark, and despite being only the second daughter of the family – the first, he seemed to recall, had been recently married to Willas Tyrell – their engagement would bring honor upon both their Houses.

But celibacy fit him perfectly fine. He liked to be able to sneak out of the castle under his father's nose, walk through the empty streets of King's Landing like he wasn't the future king, but a commoner like thousands of others (maybe a little more handsome though). He wanted to keep going riding in the woods and not bear the disappointment in his wife's eyes, the same he sometimes saw in his mother when Father had locked himself in his solar for hours with at least a dozen books. What if she was stupid ? Or worse, cruel ? His grandfather had been the perfect embodiment of why cruelty and power should never mix.

He knew nothing of the girl, apart from her name. Arya Stark. His father had explained why the union was necessary – with arguments both logical (between the abduction of her aunt and the murder of her uncle and grandfather, they were this close to rebel against the crown) and stemmed from his father's irrational fear of this “prophecy” Aegon had yet to hear – but he had heard nothing about what kind of person she was.

He wished he could talk to Jon. His cousin had been fostered at Winterfell for the major part of his childhood, and from what he heard, was especially close to her. He would surely be able to give him informations, what she liked, if she was kind, _something_ at least. But Jon and him got to spend barely a month together before he was shipped off to the Riverlands, officially to build a friendly relationship between them and the crown but informally so his mother wouldn't have to look at him, the product of the infamous affair that had shamed her so much. Aegon thought it unfair. Jon shouldn't have to bear the responsibility of their father's insensitivity.

He had asked around, but only Tyrion Lannister had been this far north, when he had visited the Wall and stopped in Winterfell. She had been younger, barely eleven or twelve. Tyrion had described her as “pretty enough but dirty”, and admitted the one that drew the eye was rather her sister, the beauty with flaming hair and soft blue eyes. Arya apparently had inherited her father's long face and grey eyes. That was all he had gotten from him.

Five years later and he still didn't know anything else.

*

“I don't want to go.”

Arya could feel the tears swelling up in her eyes. She wiped them furiously, determined not to cry. She had done that enough.

“It won't be so bad.” Bran had been trying to comfort her since he knew. “You're going to King's Landing. You will be able to explore the city, and maybe you'll get to travel elsewhere too.”

She snorted.

“Yeah. Like I will be allowed to do that. I heard Queen Elia never takes a shit without a dozen ladies around, but they will surely let me wander in the city alone.”

When her father had told her about his decision to marry her to the crown prince – decision he clearly wasn't happy about, by the way – she had been so numbfounded she hadn't said anything. This state of her hadn't lasted very long, though, and she had been raging since. She had tried everything : yelling, pleading, storming, crying, cajoling, even blackmailing to get out of this betrothal. But so far nothing had worked. Her father's mind had been set, and there was nothing she could do to change it.

It wasn't that she didn't want to marry _Aegon_ , really. She had heard the prince was kind and courteous, maybe childish and arrogant sometimes but nothing like his grandfather and uncle. Clearly the coin had landed on greatness for this one. It wasn't even the idea of marrying that bothered her. Her mind had resolved long ago to this prospect. But she had always hoped she would be engaged to some lord of the North, not very far of Winterfell if she was lucky. She knew that was the way before her grandfather Rickard decided to join the Starks to the Tullys, Northerners staying in the North. She loathed the idea of leaving. She was a Stark, she belonged there.

And if no one wanted her, she had heard women in Dorne could do a lot more than sit and breed. Maybe she could have gotten used to the heat...

But her father had crushed both of her hopes when he had betrothed her to the _crown prince_. She could have done something with a lord. But the crown prince meant she was going to be a princess. And becoming a princess meant she was going to be a queen. And becoming a queen meant she was never going to be free again.

*

They were coming. She was of age now, and her father had wanted them to meet before actually being married. Him or she had ? He didn't know.

They were close. One day or two at most. His father had asked their quarters to be made ready and the kitchens were already starting on the upcoming feast. The city was tidied up and adorned, fit to welcome a future princess. His mother had even made him a new clothing be ready for the special occasion. The closer they came, the more everybody became restless and impatient.

The closer they came, the more Aegon felt like he was choking.

*

It was petty. Petty and childish. She knew that. She was a woman grown, daughter of the Warden of the North, and a future princess. Princesses didn't escape their parties to wander in King's Landing on their own.

 _Father must be worried sick_ , she thought, but somehow she couldn't bring herself to care. She hadn't made him pay enough. Somewhere in her mind a voice – sounding remarkably like her mother's – scolded her for that. After all, that was the way it was. Daughters were shipped off to make alliances, with no regards for their feelings on the matter. But as strong as this custom was, so was her anger.

She knew he wanted her to be happy. She knew he would never have agreed to this if the prince had been a bad man. He would never have married her to someone like this sick Lannister boy. And the prince, if the tales were true, would be a good husband. Sansa had been exulting when she had known. “It will be just like the songs,” she had written in the letter congratuling her, as blind of her sister's needs as she had always been. It wouldn't though, but maybe life wouldn't be so bad.

But it wasn't her choice. And that, Arya would never forgive.

*

A headache was throbbing in his forehead. All day long it had been counsils, political matters, war matters, civilian matters and an impressive amount of bawdy jokes about the upcoming arrival of his fiancée. Really. You would be surprised of how many jokes involving wolves can be done.

He pretended he had to retrieve something from his chambers ; then, as soon as the hall was empty, he draped himself in a plain cloak, covered his head with the hood and took the hidden passage that led in the city. It was the middle of the day, which meant his absence would be noticed ; but right now, the only thing he could think of was to get out of this hellhouse, somewhere he wouldn't be recognized.

The last days had been the worse. He was feeling trapped with each step she made, and he lied awake for hours before sleep took him. The lack of informations was not helping either : it felt like everyone was carefully avoiding the subject. At this point, he was convinced she had three arms, one eye and a boar's nose.

Rhaenys had laughed when he had told her. She had been back for a week, and she was the only one he could tell. The only one that wouldn't laugh. Because what kind of a man was he if he was scared of a little girl ? They would tell him to brush it over and find another one if he didn't like her. But Rhaenys would listen. She would understand. She had always done so.

Someone bumped onto him roughly, but instead of apologizing, groaned a “Watch it !” and kept walking. It was the first time Aegon went into the city alone by day. It was overcrowded, dirty, smelly and loud ; but also so full of life he enjoyed it very much. King's Landing by night had its charms, so peaceful you would think nothing bad had or could ever happen there. But by day it was crawling with people, merchants, soldiers or simply travellers, and no one gave a damn about who he really was. Sure, they didn't know – and weren't trying to, to be honest – but he enjoyed the freedom it gave him. No lord seeking him to fix a random fight between him and his neighbor, no Mace Tyrell throwing his daughter in his path every time he could even after his betrothal had been announced (he seriously needed to stop doing that), no one scrutinizing him carefully to guess the seed of madness inside him. Here he was nobody, a common fellow like the hundreds treading upon the city. It felt good.

He avoided another man, carefully keeping his hood up in case someone would recognize him. However he still peeked around. The city was clean, at least as clean as it could be, to welcome its new princess. Giggling girls were talking intensely about her, what she looked like, if she was beautiful and kind, how magnificent the wedding should be. He wanted to answer them but alas, he knew as much as they did. But thinking about her made the vice around his heart crush it more, so he did his best to ignore them.

He knew he was being childish. Back at the castle, they were probably looking everywhere for him. He knew it wasn't kingly to avoid his future betrothed. He wasn't usually the type to shy away from his responsabilities. He had a duty towards the kingdom, and tackled it as diligently as he could. But somehow, this was different. This was a marriage. “The union of two souls”, the vows said. And as cheesy as it sounded, Aegon believed it. He didn't want a wife that would be only that in name. He didn't want a girl he could discard easily once he grew tired of her, and whose sole purpose was to bear him heirs. He wanted someone he could talk to, laugh with, share interests.

(God, he would never hear the end of it if his friends knew how corny he was.)

He brushed his thoughts away. The day was hot, and he was getting thirsty. A bit farther an inn was hosting its fair share of customers ; he made his way to it. It was dark and crowded but quite clean. There were mostly merchants and soldiers, except for one slender figure sitting at the counter. He couldn't see her face and she was wearing riding leathers, but she was unmistakably a woman. He sat not far from her, wondering dimly, before his mind focused elsewhere, what she was doing in a place like this all by herself. He ordered some wine. It was earthy and bitter, far from the sweet Arbor Gold or the tasty dornish wines he was used to drink, but he found he quite liked it after a while.

It wasn't long before he heard voices sputtering near. Someone, a tall but square man was talking to the girl, probably trying to lure her into his bed, but she was telling him to go away (in a much insulting way). But he was insisting, anger spreading across his face. When he grabbed her arm roughly, Aegon decided it was time to intervene.

He didn't get to do so, as she punched the lout right in the nose.

She was stronger than she seemed. The guy stumbled backwards, clearly surprised ; but as laughters were singing around them, his face contorted in a grimace full of rage. The girl quickly jumped on her feet, right on time to avoid a dirty backhanded blow, and took advantage of his loss of balance to kick him right between the legs. Then as he was bending, looking like he was feeling a whole other level of pain, she threw back her knee in his nose, knocking him to the ground.

There was a long pregnant silence. The girl herself seemed surprised ; she was flexing her fist as if it was painful. But she went to the bar calmly, and to the innkeeper – who was still wiping his glasses as if nothing had happened – she said :

“ Sorry for the disturbance. I'm paying for that.”

She took a golden dragon out of her purse, threw it on the counter and dashed out of the inn.

After a stunned second, Aegon followed her. He didn't know why. Maybe it was because he didn't get to meet often girls who could knock down men twice their size. Maybe he wanted to make sure she didn't hurt herself in doing so. Or maybe it was because she was so incredibly pretty, he didn't want to take his eyes off her.

She was quick but he had longer legs. She was dashing out in an empty narrow street when he caught up with her and grabbed her arm ; she turned to him a glance full of alarm and mistrust. He couldn't help but admire how the sun made her eyes a rich, silvery color. She shook her arm off his hand and barked :

“What ?”

Aegon took a step back to prove his good intentions (and also to get out of her reach. He didn't know how he would explain a black eye the day he was meeting his betrothed). He even pushed back his hood. She wouldn't probably recognize him ; and if so, he could always pretend he was a Velaryon or a Lyseni.

“Don't worry, I don't mean any harm.”

“What do you want then ?”

Aegon thought hard – something he hadn't really done till now. What was he expecting of going after her ? That she would magically fall into his arms ?

“To offer my congatulations, I guess.”

She frowned. Some strands of brown hair were tickling the side of her mouth, and she blew them out in a very cute and very at odd with the violence she had shown earlier way.

“For what ? For beating up that guy ? What are you, some kind of freak ? Look, I don't have time-”

“No no- well I mean, yes. Look, I'm sorry, I didn't think before running after you.”

“Clearly.”

“I just wanted to see you. I've never met someone like you.”

“What do you mean ?”

Now that she wasn't about to run away, he was able to look at her more closely. Confusion was spreading on her long, beautiful face, her sharp features smoothened by the mane of dark hair tumbling around her shoulders in soft waves. But he was lost in those grey eyes more surely than if a spell had been cast on him.

“You're... you're not like the other girls.”

She frowned.

“What's wrong with the other girls ?”

“Nothing I guess,” he said, a little unnerved. Every other girl would have taken that as a compliment. Why couldn't she ? “Look, I just wanted to know you a bit more. What's your name ?”

She hesitated a little, casting glances away, but ultimately answered.

“Cat.”

“Like the animal ? It suits you well.”

“What's yours ?”

“... Griff.”

“That's an odd name,” she said, scrunching her nose. “Where are you from ?”

“Lys. You ?”

“Braavos. What are you here for ?”

“Well, I'm here to settle a deal my father made. And you ?”

“Same.”

“Tell me Cat, how did you know how to fight so well ?”

“My brothers taught me. Well, my bro _ther_ because Robb thinks girls shouldn't know how to fight. So I asked him what he was expecting me to do if someone attacked me, and Jon laughed and said I would probably get myself in trouble anyway so he taught me a few things.”

Her face was lightening when she talked about her brothers (even if the so-called Robb's views on women's skills had been told with a disapproving tone). A small smile was creeping up her lips – that she had full and ripe as a peach, he noticed.

“Funny, I have a brother named Jon too.”

“Small world.”

“Indeed.”

He wanted to ask more questions but as he was opening his mouth, the giant bell of the Sept of Baelor echoed throughout the city. Cat raised her eyes to the sky, and seeing the shade of amber and pink and yellow that were starting to color it, she went pale.

“I need to go,” she whispered.

“Wait,” he said, grabbing her sleeve as she was starting to walk away. “Can I see you again ?”

She smiled again, but that time it was sad and sorry.

“I doubt so. Farewell, Griff of Lys. I hope your life goes well.”

And with that she dashed away in the twisted alleys of King's Landing.

*

Her father had been worried to death, and had sternly lectured her until she guilt-trapped him by saying that if he was forcing her into this wedding, the least he could do was to allow her a last day of freedom. She wasn't proud of that, but she was too tired to endure more. However she had thoroughly enjoyed the look of consternation on Septa Mordane's face when she had walked out of her father's tent, and even allowed a little smirk to cross her face. At least that old crow wouldn't be something she would miss.

She had been closely watched all night long, but she was too tired to try another flight on them. She had eaten few, her stomach clenching when she was thinking about the meeting with her betrothed. She went to bed soon after but the dark didn't offer much rest. She tried to imagine how it would go, but in her head Aegon's features were always turning into those of Griff, the handsome Lyseni who had followed her only because he was impressed by her right hook. He had the look for, with his pale blond hair, violet eyes and his strong build.

She shook her head. _You're about to be married_ , she admonished herself. Besides, even if she wasn't there was close to no chance to ever see him again.

The morning after she was as nervous as before, but at least she was rested. There were barely an hour away from King's Landing, so her septa insisted she put on the delicate dress she was supposed to wear in front of the court. It was blue with streaks of silver embroidered in the skirts and some Myrish lace adorning the shoulder-revealing collar ; very expensive and very uncomfortable to ride. She didn't put much of a fight to wear it though, but she adamantly refused to ride in the cart. Aegon Targaryen would know that his future wife was strong enough to ride on her future on her own means , and not carried like a poor little flower. She remembered how her aunt had been called “The Rose of the North” ; but she wasn't a rose, she was a wolf. And they would do well to remember that.

*

His collar itched. His palms were sweating. And he had slipped on a leaf this morning and couldn't feel his left buttcheek anymore. Maybe that was a sign from the universe telling him to go back to bed no ?

Well no. According to his father, “the state of your butt doesn't prevail over the realm's, so go put some clothes on and meet me in the hall”. And there he was, dressed like a harlot (there's a difference between red and red-so-bright-you-can-see-it-in-the-night guys). He couldn't say much about it though, because after his little walk the day before he was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to make any decision on his own till the day his father died. And his mother. And probably Rhaenys too.

They were coming. She was coming. That was ridiculous. He sounded like they were waiting for a monster instead of a girl. But he was decided to be a good prince and greet her as courteously as she deserved. Also he couldn't escape, so he didn't have much of a choice.

He could hear outside the cheers of the people welcoming their new princess. He wished he could be amongst them. But the decorum said they were supposed to meet in the throne room, upon which was seated his father. Below him was his mother, looking regal in her deep purple dress and the golden crown adorning her long black hair, and Aegon himself on the other side, looking like an idiot with his outfit that could been seen through the dark. The entirety of the court was gathering around them, letting only a way from the throne to the door to let the Northern party pass. Aegon hoped Arya wouldn't find that too impressive. Growing up in the North, surely she was unfamiliar with such a large crowd.

Finally the herault announced their upcoming arrival. First was a tall man dressed in fine grey furs, with brown hair, a long face and sharp grey eyes. Aegon supposed he was Eddard Stark. Which meant the girl walking by his side was...

“Cat ?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I intended to make a much longer chapter, but it appeared to me that would be way too boring fo the reader ; beside it seemed a good place to cut.
> 
> I hope you like it. Tell me if you've seen any grammar mistakes.
> 
> (By the way, can I say I love to write in this format ?)


End file.
